Snow Woman
by rainbowsindecember
Summary: Some things, you never forget. For Sendoh Akira, it was an almost cataclysmic moment when he first met the yuki-onna. Slightly AU.


**Snow Woman**

Winter. It was at its most foul, ripping into the inhabitants of Tokyo city with howling lashes of ice. Many of the homeless died; it was a kindness granted to them in the face of freezing cold and certain starvation on the streets. For there was no fire to make any semblance of a hot meal, no fire to boil the ice to tepid water, no fire to even warm their frostbitten hands by. Any spark that would light brought only temporary reprieve, as it was promptly doused by yet another laughing gust of wind.

Ah, yes. Winter that year was remembered with a painful bitterness. For the living who had to carry on, memories would not simply cease. Some things, you never forget.

Perhaps most of all for Sendoh Akira.

Sendoh remembered that winter well. He had been a boy of not quite sixteen, enjoying the pleasures that winter had brought – ice skating, snowboarding, ice fishing…sometimes even basketball on an indoor court. Others passed on in the very snow he delighted in, blanketed by fresh layers throughout the night; but Sendoh would know not of such things, he who was well-loved and well-fed.

When you are sixteen, you do not think of anyone or anything else except for the here and now.

And then, his world melted away, like the glossy icicles that hung from his windowsills.

_I've got a promotion_, his father announced jubilantly, _and it requires me to make a transfer_. Just like that, and his world was nothing more than a storm in the teacup he held between shaking hands. His mother had glanced out the windows, clucked at the sight of the weather outside, then sighed in relief at the thought of leaving the dreary cold behind.

No more schooling here. No more friends. Did it even snow further south in Kanagawa? Heaven knows. He'd never been there, nor paid any attention in Geography.

Sendoh had grown steadily angrier as his parents discussed trivialities like packing and dates. How dare they. How dare they?!

He remembered well, the shock in his parents' eyes as he slammed his fists on the table. His chair scraped harshly across the floor as he towered over them and stubbornly replied that he would _not_ go. In the heated argument that ensued, his father had struck him over the ear, and it was enough to make Sendoh storm out of the two-bedroom apartment with its en-suite bathrooms. He missed the look of grief that flickered over his father's wrinkled face.

That was not all he missed, either. In his haste to depart, Sendoh had neglected to don his warmer apparel.

Clad in a red cotton shirt and blue jeans, with neither coat nor gloves, not even a scarf, Sendoh wandered the streets. Vacant. Unused. The empty roads blurred into one another as Sendoh trudged furiously onwards in the snow, his hot temper serving as the only fortitude against the biting cold.

He didn't notice the frozen bodies that littered the shadowy alleys of Tokyo.

In less than an hour, Sendoh had begun to question his impulsive decision to leave the warmth and comfort of his cosy home. The snow was falling heavier than ever. His fingertips were turning slightly numb; his lips were following suit. If he could see them, he would know they were a shade of blue. His rumbling stomach served as a reminder that it was now dinnertime – there would be bowls of steaming white rice on the table. Perhaps even piping hot _tempura_.

As another painful growl racked his stomach, Sendoh decided to head back. He would have sufficiently worried his parents, and they would fuss over his miserable appearance. He would gobble down his delicious dinner; maybe even have a hot chocolate before bed. There would be no more talk of moving.

Cheered, Sendoh happily turned around–

–and saw nothing but white. Bright, blinding white. It seemed as though the landscape did not exist, only the masses of snow that covered everything – every car, every building, every street, every sign. His teeth chattering, Sendoh tried to ascertain his whereabouts. And found that he simply could not. There was no way to distinguish each white lump from the next.

It took another ten minutes of useless roving before Sendoh realised that he was completely lost. And with the wind screaming ferociously around him, nobody would hear the knocks and his hoarse voice as they ate their dinner, thankful they had a roof over their heads, unlike the poor sods outside.

Sendoh clasped his fingers together and tried to blow warmth into them as he huddled in an alley. At least it was less cold in there, with the wind passing by instead of directly at him. Tired, he shut his eyes for a little while. He choked back a sob, feeling a wave of self-pity as he sat in the gloominess.

Then, an unusually cold draught made him gasp in surprise at the stinging chill.

_Thud._

He opened his eyes and turned around to see a wizened old man slump sideways, his skull producing a sickening noise when it connected with the frozen earth. In that, it was horrifying enough. But it was nothing compared to what he saw hovering over the new corpse, breathing ice into the now dead body.

Sendoh was a brave boy, rather daring for his age and a little bit of a show-off, but even he was petrified when he saw it. It had its back towards him, but Sendoh could feel the malice emanating from it, from the top of its dark head to the bottom of its white feet, which floated slightly above ground. He tried to quell his rising fear, but it came out in a strangled whimper.

The creature whirled around at the noise, its eyes blazing red with fury as it roared towards Sendoh–

–and stopped within an inch of him.

Sendoh's chest rose and fell rapidly as the redness died from its eyes. The thing cocked its head and regarded him, indolently moving around to peruse him from every angle. The hammering in his heart slowed as the creature studied him, and he took the opportunity to frankly appraise it as well.

It had lush locks the colour of the darkest obsidian; its eyes, now that the rage had dissipated, were a queer bluish hue, although Sendoh did not dare to look at them directly. Lower, its body appeared to be almost translucent in its paleness, seemingly one with the snow. This Sendoh knew from the pallid face and neck, the demurely folded hands and bare feet peeking out from beneath a richly woven silk kimono, bleached to virginal white.

It – and Sendoh was sure it was an 'it' – was strangely … beautiful, in an ethereal way. Despite the long hair and the rounded curves accentuated by the tightly bound kimono, Sendoh intrinsically knew it was not a woman, and yet somehow, it was at the same time.

"I could kill you," the womanly creature suddenly spoke, her blue eyes flashing as Sendoh scrambled back a little. "But that would be such a waste of your beauty, little one, would it not?"

Sendoh cleared his throat. "Y-You're even more beautiful," he answered a trifle unsteadily. The creature smirked and trailed a finger down his face. Sendoh screamed as the piercing cold seemed to freeze the path she had marked with her finger. He panted as she drew back, satisfied.

"What are you?" he whispered, cupping the side of his face where to his astonishment, the flesh was still warm and whole.

"I have no name. But I sometimes hear people whisper to me before I let them die. They say 'snow woman'. Always with a 'please' at the end. It's no use. It's never any use," she replied, pursing her pale lips thoughtfully.

And in a flash, the childhood tales came pouring into his mind. How the yuki-onna would catch a lost man in the snow and freeze him to his death with her chilling breath, his ice-topped corpse the only thing they would find in the morning. Or tempt him with sly flashes of what lay under her kimono, and when he had followed her far enough, she would vanish, leaving him forever lost in the snowstorm.

Yuki-onna. Snow woman. They were one and the same.

"Ahh, you've heard of me, then," she said, as Sendoh began to tremble. "But like I said, to kill you would be a waste of your exquisite loveliness. Shall we strike a bargain instead?"

"…what do you want from me?"

The creature began to disrobe, carefully watching Sendoh's reaction as the kimono slipped past her fair shoulders, her soft curves, and puddled on the snowy ground. "First, your name, please. Second, take off your clothes."

"It's Akira. Sendoh Akira," he shakily responded as he pulled his red shirt over his head and unzipped his denims.

"Sendoh. Akira." The yuki-onna tumbled the name around on her tongue and then drew close to Sendoh. He could feel the ice on her breath as her naked body pressed against him and her cold lips whispered into his ear.

"Third. You never, never tell anyone about me, or what happened here today."

They found Sendoh the next morning, numb with cold and barely conscious, but he was _alive_. His mother sobbed with relief; his father shed a few tears as they hugged their only son. It was a miracle that he had even survived the night with little more than the thin clothes he had worn, an astonished doctor had told his overjoyed parents. Sendoh spent a number of days in the hospital for moderate hypothermia and mild frostbite, but despite the curious stares and gentle prodding, he said nothing.

True to his word, Sendoh breathed nothing of the night he had spent with the snow woman.

* * *

_Based on the Japanese legend of the yuki-onna._

* * *

AN: There is a final part to this. Will post after finishing, promise.


End file.
